


From the Top: Phase Two

by lucifersfavoritechild



Series: Ironstrange Cinematic Universe [9]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Canon deaths, Don't worry he gets hugs, M/M, MCU Rewrite, Main Focus on Peter, Mysterio personally victimized me and everyone else, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Tony Stark Lives, Tony Stark's Gauntlet is a Prosthesis, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Parenting Peter Parker | Supremefamily | Strange Family, Traumatized Peter Parker, Traumatized Stephen Strange, Traumatized everyone, entirely, except for Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersfavoritechild/pseuds/lucifersfavoritechild
Summary: The Battle of Earth and Thanos's death was the end of an era, but the world turns on. Now Tony and Stephen have to heal, adjust to the realities of Stephen's return and the reversal of the snap, and take care of their family while protecting the Earth.It's never going to be easy . . . but that doesn't mean it's not worth it.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Series: Ironstrange Cinematic Universe [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1466356
Comments: 4
Kudos: 133





	From the Top: Phase Two

**Author's Note:**

> So, you might have noticed I changed this.
> 
> After thinking about it, I figured it would be easier and more concise to have post-Endgame movie fics (and some interludes) all in one big fic like From the Top instead of having a lot of fics with terrible, unwieldy titles (looking at you, From the Top: Spider-Man: Far From Home). So I changed it and also updated the date to today so people would see the updates.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Peter was affected too. He just didn’t want to say it. 
> 
> As though he could hear his thoughts, Peter said, “I swear I’m fine, Doctor Strange.” He almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “I am. I’m great.” 
> 
> || 
> 
> Eight months ago, Tony Stark brought half the universe back from the Snap. Now, while he's taking a much-needed vacation with his husband, Peter has a whole new set of problems to deal with. Namely, going on vacation, recovering from his death, elemental monsters, betrayal, and telling MJ he likes her. It's looking to be a long summer.

_— 2024 —_

Ned leaned back in his chair, holding pointing his pen at Peter like an intellectual. “Tell them your plan.”

Peter was half-sprawled across the table, gesturing with his hands. “Okay, first, I sit next to MJ on the flight.”

Riri, the oldest of Tony’s Snap kids, nodded. “Mm.”

“Second, I’m gonna buy a dual headphone adapter and watch movies with her the whole time.”

“Nice,” Bo said.

“Three, when we get to Venice — because Venice is super famous for making stuff out of glass — I’m gonna buy her a Black Dahlia necklace, because her favorite flower is the Black Dahlia, because of, well—”

“The murder,” Ned said.

“Yeah, it’s her favorite murder.”

Riri nodded approvingly. “Cool girl.”

Peter smiled before rambling on, encouraged. “Fourth, when we go to Paris, I’m gonna take her to the top of the Eiffel Tower and give her the necklace.”

“Ooh!” Nico said, riveted. He was the youngest of the teens, and had a clear case of hero-worship for Peter, who’d actually _fought supervillains_. For some reason, he was never as impressed by Tony, who actually saved the universe, but _whatever_.

“Then five, I tell her how I feel.” He half-shrugged. “And sixth, hopefully she’ll feel the same way.”

“Don’t forget step seven,” Ned said helpfully.

Peter groaned. “Don’t—”

“Don’t do any of that.”

“Why not?” Riri asked. “It’s a good plan.”

Nico nodded in energetic agreement. “Yeah! It’s perfect!”

“It’s lame,” Bo said, trying to balance himself on the back on the couch. 

Riri looked up at him from her position on the floor. “Fight me.”

Peter looked to Ned triumphantly. “See? That’s three to two. I win.”

Ned shook his head, clearly feeling he was in the right and Peter was just too lovestruck to see it. “Peter, we’re gonna be _bachelors_ in _Europe_!”

“Also lame,” Bo said before scrambling to keep from falling to the floor. 

Peter debated shooting a web to keep him in place before deciding to just see where it went. “Ned—

“Peter,” Ned said, “I may not know much, but I do know one thing: Europeans _love_ Americans.”

“That’s definitely not true,” Riri said.

“Yeah, I don’t know where you got that,” Peter said before moving on. “Besides, I really like MJ. She’s awesome, she’s super funny in a sort of dark way, and sometimes I catch her looking at me, and I feel she—”

“Is everyone in here packed?”

All of the teens jumped as Stephen suddenly appeared in the room, looking at them with poorly-concealed amusement and disappointment. A thud sounded from behind the couch as Bo landed on the floor before squeaking out, “Yes.”

Riri was looking at her phone. “That’s a lie. I’m packed, they’re not.”

Stephen sighed. “You all need to have your stuff ready. Tony and I are leaving tomorrow, and you’re all going to be with your other parents.”

“I can get packed tomorrow,” Nico muttered. 

“Oh, really?” Stephen asked. “You’re gonna wake up at six in the morning tomorrow to pack three weeks worth of clothes, just so you don’t have to do it now?”

“. . . No.”

“Then go do it. You too, Bo. I can still see you.”

“Ha,” Riri said with a chuckle.

“Riri, you need to watch the little kids until Pepper gets home.”

“I jinxed myself.” 

Soon, the teens had filtered out except for Peter, who Stephen stopped before he could go. “Peter,” Stephen said quietly, “are you . . . alright?”

Peter’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, but Stephen knew him well enough to notice. “Totally,” he squeaked before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’m just . . . really ready for this trip, you know? Need a break from everything.”

Stephen did know. The past eight months had been chaos — reuniting families, dealing with the criminals that popped up whenever things were difficult, financing charities and homes to help those who were displaced by the Snap. Now was the first chance any of them had gotten for a break, and they were taking it. Even Pepper and Christine were taking a week away with Morgan and Vincent while he and Tony were gone. 

Still . . . it was harder for them than the other victims of the Snap. Decimation. _Blip._ It _had_ been a blip for other people, one moment gone, and the next returned. But the ones who’d fought Thanos, the ones with powers that let them see things they shouldn’t . . . they knew what happened, and a part of them remembered. 

Stephen had it hardest, though he would never say so himself. He remembered all of it, all five years of weaving magic and planning and hoping and _aching_ , unable to touch or even speak to the others. All that kept him going was the ghost of his sister and the thought of Tony. 

But Peter was affected too. He just didn’t want to say it.

As though he could hear his thoughts, Peter said, “I swear I’m fine, Doctor Strange.” He almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “I am. I’m great.”

Stephen sighed. Now wasn’t the time. Who knew, maybe the next two weeks would do them all some good. “You’ll call us if you need anything?”

Peter nodded, eager to get out of the conversation. “Promise.”

Stephen took a step back. “Help Bo pack, will you? His room is a minefield, I have no idea how he finds anything. I’ll portal you home in time for the benefit.”

Peter sighed in relief before taking off. “Thanks, Doc!”

“No running in the house!” Stephen yelled after him.

As soon as Peter was out of sight, his smile faded. The house was quiet, too quiet for how many people were in it. Almost as if—

He shook his head. Ever since he looked through millions of futures, he could only think of the worst possible outcomes coming true. Without the Time Stone, there was no way to know how to stop them. His mind led him to dark places, of futures where Tony died saving them or Peter was ripped apart by Thanos or the Outriders or—

Stephen closed his eyes, forcing the thought away. That hadn’t happened. Tony was alive. Peter was alive. He was alive. There was no point in thinking of what might have been. There was only this moment, and the next. One step, then another.

He opened his eyes and went to find Pepper.

* * *

Peter stared at the glasses. “Why . . . why are you giving these to me?”

Tony closed the box, setting it in Peter’s hand. “Because I need to leave these with someone I know I can trust while we’re gone for the next couple of weeks. Stephen’ll be with me, Pepper and Christine are civilians, and most of the heroes I know and like are either busy, out of touch, or retired. Besides, odds are you won’t have to use ‘em. Emergency-only sunglasses.”

Peter forced a chuckle. “Yeah . . . probably won’t even put them on.”

* * *

Tony called Peter the next day while he, Stephen, Pepper, and Christine tried to get the kids ordered. “Hey Pete, I was just calling to check on you. I heard about the benefit last night, how the reporters were crowding you and . . . Are you okay? Because if you’re having anxiety, then I can . . .” Tony took in a breath. “I can help you with that. Kind of have some expertise in that area.”

Peter sputtered before speaking. “What? No, Mister Stark, I’m _fine_. I swear. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be leaving with Doctor Strange right now?” 

“We’re getting the kids home first.”

On the lawn of the lakehouse, Stephen shouted, “OKAY, EVERYONE LINE UP SINGLE FILE _WITH_ YOUR STUFF, I’M GONNA PORTAL YOU HOME ONE-BY-ONE AND YOU BETTER BE READY.”

“It’s really not a bother, Peter. I can help you out before you go, maybe check up on you while you’re in Europe.”

“Really, Mister Stark, you don't need to. I don’t want you guys to be worrying about me while you’re gone.”

“We’re always worrying. It’s our natural state at this point. But if you’re sure—”

“I am.”

Tony tamped down on his frustration. “Okay. Did you pack your suit?”

“Uhh . . . yeah?”

“Sounds fake, but okay. Also, I got a call and . . . are you ghosting _Nick Fury_?”

“Um . . . yes?”

“. . . Good job.” He hung up and shouted, “OKAY, LET’S GET A MOVE ON!”

* * *

Stephen transferred the phone from one side to another and fed Vincent another cheerio. “Yeah, he’s not answering us either, Director. Well, you know how teenagers are. I remember when I was his age, I painted my nails black and started dating a choir boy two years older than me. My parents were happy, but they didn’t know I had a boyfriend, just that I was getting involved at church — and yep, he hung up.” He levitated the eight-month-old baby into his arms and kissed his downy hair before passing him off to Christine. “See you in two weeks.”

* * *

OKAY, so he didn’t get to sit by MJ on the plane, Brad was flirting with her, Ned had this weird thing going on with Betty, the hotel was literally sinking, and his dreams were . . . less than pleasant. BUT, he had the necklace, and it was _perfect_ , so steps three through six were still go. And MJ was talking to him! All he had to do was— _What’s in the water?_

Before he could say anything to MJ, the water suddenly burst upwards in a huge column, sending boats flying forward and people screaming as they were drenched or hit by debris from the canals. 

Betty and Ned’s gondola was thrust forward, sending one end of it slamming into a wall as they landed on the stone streets.

Peter ran forward. “Are you guys okay?” He took Betty’s hand, helping her as she leapt out of the boat, quickly followed by Ned. “We gotta—” He cut off suddenly, staring as the water grew up into the sky, shifting and morphing until it held the shape of a giant man.

_Oh, COME ON!_

* * *

“Are you okay?” Stephen asked, sitting up in the sand.

Tony looked at him, making hurry-up gestures. “Is he okay?!”

“I’m okay,” Peter said.

Stephen covered the phone. “He’s okay.” Removing his hand, he asked, “What exactly happened?”

“We’re in Venice, and there was a giant water guy-monster-thing? I tried to fight it, but my webs were kind of useless — because of the water — but this guy showed up, I think he was magic, but it wasn’t like yours Doctor Strange, and he killed it.”

“Okay, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” After doing just that, Stephen continued, “Okay, water monster, magic guy killed it. Do you know who he was?”

“No. He had a helmet — it looked like a fishbowl, to be honest — so I didn’t see his face, and he disappeared right after— oh, Ned’s in here.”

“Hi Mister Stark and Doctor Strange!”

Tony resisted the urge to sigh. “Yeah, hey Ned. Listen, Peter, what do you wanna do about the whole water monster thing?”

“. . . Do I have to do something? It’s dead, and it’s not like I can rebuild the places it destroyed. Can’t I just . . . be on vacation?”

Stephen frowned. He honestly agreed with Peter and didn’t see the point if the monster was gone, but he worried that the kid had issues he wasn’t sharing with them. Still, he said, “Alright, just check in with us again. If something happens—”

“Do you want to turn the phone off, Peter?”

Tony and Stephen froze. “Fury?”

“No. That’s Mister Harrington. It’s, uh . . . time to go to sleep . . . ‘cuz we have to get up in the morning . . . I’ll call you guys later.”

* * *

“A week ago, a village in Mexico was wiped out by a cyclone. Witnesses say that cyclone had a _face_. Three days later, a similar event in Morocco. A village was destroyed by what may be another world-threatening creature.”

Wow, he really needed to start keeping up with the news better. “So it’s gonna happen again?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about following Nick Fury into a strange, ancient-looking cave, but at least it wasn’t as bad as the fact that he was being dragged into another global crisis.

Fury didn’t bother to answer him as they entered a large, cavernous room lined with old stone bricks and filled with computers, tables, gear, futuristic tech, and SHIELD agents. He nodded to a few of the agents in turn, introducing them to Peter. “That’s Maria Hill, Dimitri . . . and _this_ is Mister Beck.”

The man from the fight earlier stood in the middle of the room, his dark red cape swirling as he turned to look at Peter. Without the helmet, he could tell that it was a man, older than himself, but younger than Mister Stark or even Doctor Strange. He was handsome, like most heroes seemed to be, with rich brown hair and a beard that suited his face. His suit was made of a dark green, reflective material that glinted from the lamps, though the torso was covered by what looked like a shining gold chest plate with blue lights here and there. 

“Mysterio . . .” Peter said without thinking.

The man looked at him questioningly. “What?”

Peter shook his head. “Sorry. Just . . . what my friends were calling you.”

“Huh.” The man turned and stepped towards him, holding out a hand. “Well, you can call me Quentin.” Peter took his hand, trying not to seem too eager as he shook it. “You handled yourself well out there today. We could use someone like you on my world.”

Peter smiled from the praise, even though it felt like he didn’t deserve it. It took a moment for the rest of Beck’s words to register. “I’m sorry, your world?”

“Mister Beck _is_ from Earth,” Fury said. “Just not _yours_.”

“There are multiple realities, Peter,” Beck explained. “This is Earth-616, I’m from Earth-833.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, unable to contain his excitement, “you’re saying there’s a _multiverse?_ Because I thought that was just theoretical! I mean, it completely changes how we understand the initial singularity! We’re talking about an internal inflation system, and how would that even work with all the quantum—” He stopped when he noticed everyone staring at him in annoyance. “Uh . . . sorry. It’s really cool, is all.”

Beck was smiling at him. “Don’t ever apologize for being the smartest one in the room.”

Peter felt his cheeks heat up at the unexpected compliment. 

Almost as soon as it happened, the moment was gone, and Fury was drawing them over to a circular table in the middle of the room. A hologram appeared above it, one made of swirling orange light and silver stars surrounding a spear of darkness. “They were born in stable orbits within blackholes, creatures formed from the primary elements: air, water, fire, earth. The science division had a technical name, but we just called them Elementals. They first materialized on my Earth many years ago. We fought them, but they just got stronger with each battle. I was a part of the last battalion, but . . .” The black hole transformed into a planet, one slowly being devoured by glowing red fire. “We just delayed the inevitable.”

“The Elementals are here now and attacking the same coordinates,” Maria Hill said, her head bowed respectfully to the grief in Beck’s eyes. Peter did the same. “Our satellites confirm it.”

“You can thank Mister Beck for destroying the other three,” Fury said. “Now there’s only one left.”

“Fire,” Beck said, not looking at them. “The strongest. The one that . . .” The Earth was consumed with red now, and it crumbled before them. “Destroyed my planet. And my family.” Peter realized he was wearing a wedding ring. His fingers passed over it unconsciously. 

Peter’s throat tightened. “I’m . . . I’m sorry.”

“It will be in Prague in approximately forty-eight hours,” Fury said, looking at Peter. “We have one mission: kill it. And you’re coming with us.”

Peter looked around to see everyone watching him expectantly, though Beck’s eyes were kinder than the others. “What?” He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “Mister Fury, this . . . this seems like big leagues stuff, and I- I mean, I’m just a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Bitch, please, you’ve been to space.”

Peter winced, remembering the dreams that had been haunting him for eight months now. “I know, but, sir, that was an accident! There’s got to be a way, someone else you can use—”

“Alright.” Fury leaned back in his chair. “Stark won’t take my calls, and Strange never did, so you do it. Call ‘em up, ask them yourself.”

Peter froze, feeling himself heat up from frustration. “I can't ask Doctor and Mister Strange-Stark! They're— busy.”

“Busy? Busy where?”

* * *

Stephen shifted on top of his towel, a pair of Tony’s sunglasses on to protect from the double suns in the sky. The sand was purple, the sky a warm reddish-orange. Tony had just gotten out of the warm water, and was settled beside him. 

Tony was fidgeting, looking from Stephen to the water and back again. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

Stephen sighed. “I called him, he said he’s fine, I checked his vitals and I opened a portal, _all to make sure he’s okay, Tony._ ”

“I know, I know . . . but maybe—”

Stephen rolled onto his stomach, staring at him. “He’s okay, Tony. You’re just worried because this is the first time in eight months you haven’t had to think about someone else, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. But we are on vacation. We are here, alone, together, because I was gone for five years, without you, and you without me, and we spent almost all of the past year fixing everything for everyone else. All I ask is two weeks where we don’t do that. Fourteen days of quiet, abandoned paradise planets, and sex in positions you probably shouldn’t do anymore at your age, and just being around each other. _Fourteen. Days._ ”

Tony fell back onto the blanket, huffing. “You’re right. You’re right, you are. If Peter needs us, he’ll call, or Karen will alert me. It’s all good.”

. . . 

“Do you want me to check again?”

“Please.”

* * *

Peter stared at Fury, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to call them. They’d been through so much — Doctor Strange was the only one who’d been conscious through the five years in the Soul Realm. They’d been without each other for _five years_. He couldn’t take this from them. 

_Mister Stark gave the glasses to me,_ Peter reminded himself, taking a deep breath. _He trusts me to take care of things while he’s gone. I’ve been to Space. I fought Thanos on Titan and in the Eternity Battle. I’m Spider-Man. I’ve got this._

“Fine,” Peter bit out, the words tasting like blood in his mouth. “But my classmates are here. Everyone I know . . . no one can find out I’m Spider-Man. They can’t find out I even left the trip. Okay?”

Fury stared at him for a moment. “Deal.”

* * *

Prague was nice. It would have been nicer if they weren’t there because Peter had to fight a giant fire monster, and if it didn’t totally change his plans with MJ, and if he hadn’t almost killed himself and all his classmates on the way there by trying to figure out how the glasses worked (sidenote, they were _way_ more advanced than he’d thought and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about having all of Tony’s security systems at his fingertips). All in all, not the best trip ever.

 _Whatever._ At least they’d be able to get back to their trip after tonight.

. . .

You know, assuming they managed to kill the fire thing and everyone lived.

At least Beck was there to help him out. The older hero had even comforted Peter after Fury yelled at him for his mistake on the bus. He _understood_ , knew what Peter meant when he said he wanted to leave this all behind, to focus on his trip and tell MJ how he felt and be a _kid—_

And he understood why Peter hated himself for saying it.

 _Who knows_ , Peter thought as he skirted around the walls of the Opera room, trying to sneak out. _Maybe with Beck here and Mister Stark and Doctor Strange coming back soon, I can take a more permanent break. Well, not_ **_permanent_ ** _permanent, but maybe—_

“Peter?”

He froze, turning to face the voice. “Oh,” he said awkwardly, voice breaking. “He-hey, MJ. You . . . you look really pretty.”

She arched a brow at him, her expression otherwise unchanging. “And so I have value?”

Peter blanched. “No. No, that’s not what I meant at all, I mean, of course you normall- or, always have- I was just—”

“I’m messing with you,” MJ said, and, _Oh, thank God_ , smiled at him. “You look pretty too.” She looked around. “Do you want to sit together?”

Peter was just about to say, _YES_ , when Fury’s voice came in through the comm. “ _Parker, are you in position?_ ”

 _Oh, yeah. That._ “Yeah, I’ll just . . . I’m gonna go to the bathroom and . . . probably grab a pair of those weird glasses on the way back. Just, uh, gimme a minute.” He smiled awkwardly, feeling butterflies fluttering in his stomach when she returned the smile, and left, quickly breaking into a run once he was out of sight of his classmates.

The carnival was alive outside, the air filled with music and colorful lights and fireworks and the laughter of people masked in fun costumes. Peter saw it all from his position at the top of a centuries-old tower, cloaked in the all-black stealth suit that Fury had made for him. It was actually a pretty cool suit, if a bit . . . tight in certain places—

 _OH FUCK, THERE IT IS!_ Lava burst from beneath an ornate statue of a man riding a horse, rising up and wrapping around the statue to form a hand as people ran and screamed. The hand crushed the statue, sending rock and stone flying around as the creature roared. 

Peter’s hand flew to his ear. “HE’S HERE! BECK, GET IN POSITION, HE’S HERE!”

“ _Got it._ ” Then Beck was flying over the city in full-costume, green smoke under his feet and trailing behind him. He landed in front of the Elemental, green-Illuminati triangles appearing at his hands. “You’re up, kid.”

Peter moved quickly, webbing a nearby wooden board and swinging forward with it, throwing it at the monster’s face before landing nearby. It was only a distraction, and it bought them the few seconds they needed for Peter to web a fire hydrant while Mysterio put his powers to work. Between Beck and the water, the monster began to dissolve into a huge cloud of steam—

 _Okay, not enough._ Peter jumped when the Elemental’s huge fist almost connected with his body, moving from place to place as he ran to find a better spot to attack from—

 _Oh, no._ The monster had grabbed hold of the carousel Peter had just leapt from, absorbing it into the thing’s body, growing larger, stronger.

Peter yelled out, “ _Beck, he’s got the carousel, he’s getting bigger!_ ” As though the universe had heard his fears and decided to double them, he heard someone shouting from the Ferris wheel behind him, and turned to see Betty and Ned at the top, much to his heartbeat’s displeasure. “Oh God . . .”

And the Elemental was getting closer.

Peter did what he could, trying to back up and lead the thing away from the wheel as he shot his webs — but the webbing quickly caught fire, and the thing was almost there, its huge fist falling down—

Beck appeared beside him, holding his hands palms-up and projecting a shield around them, shaking as fire erupted and the Elemental’s hands rained down on them. 

Beck couldn’t hold it forever. “We gotta hit it with something it can’t absorb!” Another hit made his voice shake. “You go right, I’ll go left!” Then the shield fell, and they were both moving, Peter running up a building as far as he could, swinging a chunk of broken wall made from bricks at the thing. It roared, moving towards him with rage in what counted for its face. 

Peter ignored it. “Beck, _shoot him!_ ”

Beck moved, shooting the monster with bolt after bolt of energy while Peter hurled hunks of stone and brick at the Elemental, trying to keep it from the metal Ferris wheel that Ned and Betty were still screaming from. But nothing was working, the thing was advancing, and his webs were doing _nothing_ , and he _really_ should have called Mister Stark—

But just as Beck seemed to have it under control, he walked the monster back into a set of metal construction equipment and stairs. The Elemental seemed to actually _smirk_ as it grew bigger.

Beck shook his head, whispering, “No, no, no,” before growing still. He lowered his helmet, and he looked tired and resigned and _determined_ as he looked at Peter. “Whatever happens, I’m glad we met.” Then his helmet reformed, and he screamed as bright green light grew around his hands, brighter than before, enough to hurt Peter’s eyes. The energy wrapped around his entire body, enveloping him.

“ _BECK!”_

Mysterio flew forward, into the Elemental’s chest and getting lost in its body. The monster screamed for the first time all night as its body turned acidic-green, the color spreading and growing—

And then it was gone, imploding into nothingness.

Peter looked around, sucking in a breath when he saw Beck lying on the ground. His face was red and bloody and streaked with soot, but maybe . . .

Peter leapt forward, running over the still-hot ground until he was at Beck’s side. He took Beck’s hand, checking for a pulse.

Slowly, Beck moved, rolling onto his back and looking up at Peter. He smiled, squeezing his hand. “Hey, kid.”

* * *

“And who does Fury even think he is?” Peter demanded before taking another sip of his lemonade. “I’m sixteen— I think.” Birthdays had gotten very confusing after the Snap. “I just— I want to go on my trip! With my friends! And go to the top of the Eiffel Tower with the girl I like and tell her how I feel! That’s not a lot to ask!” He drank his lemonade in frustration, feeling vindicated when Beck nodded in agreement. “But . . .” He groaned. “I’m not gonna do that.”

Beck leaned in closer. “Why not?”

“Because . . . I owe it to—”

“To _who?_ ” Beck demanded. “What could you possibly owe to anyone after you risked your life for everyone! After you helped me fight the thing that destroyed my home? After you literally _died_ and only came back a year ago? Hell, not even a year ago!”

Peter started to answer, but a woman came up to him, handing him a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses. Peter stopped and stared at them, feeling awful.

Beck looked over. “Are those . . .”

Peter nodded, eyes shut. “Mister Stark’s glasses.” He buried his face in his hands. “God, I can’t believe Mister Stark asked me to hold onto these, and I _dropped them._ I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not, Peter,” Beck said softly, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, try them on.”

Peter sighed, but Beck was still urging him, and, well, he wanted to impress the cool, handsome hero that just saved everyone. He put them on.

Beck stared. “Can I be completely honest with you?”

Peter nodded. 

“They look stupid.”

 _WOW, okay._ His cheeks blazed, but he was determined to move past it. He took the glasses off and handed them to Beck. “Here, you try them.”

Beck was smiling when he shook his head. “No, I don’t wanna—”

“Please?”

Beck sighed long-sufferingly before taking the sunglasses and putting them on. “What do you think?”

Peter stared at him for a moment. His stomach was all light and fluttery, not unlike how he felt around MJ sometimes, and for some reason his Spider-Sense was messing with him. An idea came to him, slowly at first, but once it took hold, it seemed like fate.

“Mister Beck . . .” He struggled to find the words. “Do you wanna hold onto these for me?”

“Peter, I—”

“No, no, no, it’s a good idea. I’m just— I don’t know if I can do all of this right now. I’m just— I’m sixteen. I’m a high schooler. And I think that . . . I’m still recovering from the Blip.” The words were terrifying. He’d felt guilty even thinking about them. But once he said it, it felt like a weight the size of Mt. Everest had been lifted from his shoulders. “But you’re an adult, with experience, and you know how to protect people and not just make it worse. A _leader_. And Mister Stark’ll be back in about a week and a half, so you can just give ‘em back when Fury introduces you two.” He spoke faster, growing increasingly sure that this was the right choice. “And the Elementals are gone, so you probably won’t even need them.”

Beck was frowning slightly, but he seemed to be coming around. “And you can go back to your trip and focus on being a kid.”

Peter nodded, no longer able to hide his eagerness. He put the glasses on. “Karen?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“I want to transfer the controls over to Quentin Beck.”

“That will require confirmation.”

Beck opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Peter said, “Confirmed.” He waited a moment before taking the glasses off and handing them back to Beck. “Welcome to the Avengers.”

* * *

Slowly, the bar decorations and trapping and most of the patrons disappeared, dissolving into electronic blue light as the drones powered down. Beck watched the door, waiting to see if Peter would come back in. When he didn’t, a smile broke onto his face. “Well . . . that was easy.”

Then his team was cheering, one of them stepping forward to remove the stupid, bulky fucking gold chest plate from him while he handed the glasses off to someone else. “Get this connected to our system.” 

He stood up from the stool, but then everyone was chanting, “Speech! Speech! Speech!”

Beck protested weakly for a moment before hopping up onto the bar, grinning. “Okay, toast!” He raised his beer. “To the man who brought us all here, our former boss, Tony Stark.”

The crowd booed enthusiastically.

Quentin raised his hands. “Don’t worry, he’ll be dead soon!”

Everyone cheered at that.

“The jester king! Literally _wrapped_ in wealth and technology that he is unfit to wield. Like the holographic system that _I_ designed. A revolutionary breakthrough, with limitless applications, that Tony turned into a self-therapy machine, and renamed . . .” He took a deep breath. “ _BARF!_ ”

The jeers were growing heated, the crowd hungry for Stark’s blood and Quentin’s dramatics.

Quentin raised a hand to quiet them. “And when I argued, told him how it could change the world? He called me unstable and fired me!” He scoffed. “And don’t even get me started on his husband!”

Everyone who’d had the misfortune of meeting Stephen Strange either laughed or cheered.

He shook his head, muttering, “Real match made in Hell.” He raised his head, thanking each of them in turn for their contributions — the weaponized drones, the electromagnetic pulses that messed with Fury’s sensors, the story of Mysterio, the hacking it took to find out Tony gave Peter the glasses. When it was done, he raised his glass. “To Tony Stark! To _us!_ ” He spoke louder, bolstered by his team chanting back at him. “To Mysterio! And to the hormonal teenager who just handed us everything we ever wanted on a silver platter, _Peter Parker!_ ”

* * *

_Okay._ So, the trip was ending early because monsters kept popping up (which SUCKED since they just handled the last one) and they wouldn’t be going to Paris, but he could still salvage this. MJ accepted his invitation to get outside for a bit, and the bridge, though no Eiffel Tower, was old in a romantic kind of way and she seemed to like it.

“You know they used to execute people on this bridge?” MJ said while they walked. “They would put ‘em in a basket, then drown them in the water.”

“Oh,” Peter said, feeling pleasantly warm in the way he did when MJ started talking about something dark or macabre. She was so genuinely interested in stuff that it was a delight to listen to her and watch the excited gestures she made. 

“Sorry,” MJ said awkwardly, misinterpreting his silence.

“No, it’s cool,” Peter said quickly, moving his hand when it brushed too close to hers. “I, uh . . . I like listening to you talk about stuff.” He messed with his hair. “There’s this thing that I’ve kind of been wanting to talk to you about. For a while, now.”

They stopped walking, MJ turning to face him. “Yeah?”

Peter tried to stand up straighter, ignoring the anxious heat spreading over his neck. “It’s our last night in Europe, and I had this plan, which seems kind of stupid now, but I wanted to tell you . . .” He shook his head to stop his fumbling and reached for the container in his pocket. “I’m just gonna tell you—”

“That you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter froze. “. . . What?” His voice sounded small and weak even to himself, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to think that he’d misheard her, but—

“You’re Spider-Man?” MJ said, oblivious to how he was falling apart.

“Um . . .” Peter shook his head. “No. I’m not Spider-Man.”

“I mean, I’ve been watching you for a while now. It’s kind of obvious.”

That one hurt. All this time he’d thought she was looking for him for the same reason he was looking at her — _stupid._ He couldn’t _believe_ he messed up so bad — no, actually he could believe it. Messing up was the only thing he _could_ do. _Idiot._

MJ continued, unfazed. “Peter, Washington? The fact that you disappeared? Out of nowhere?”

“I was sick, I was, I had—” Shit, what had his excuse been again?

“And what about tonight?” MJ asked. “You snuck off and fought that thing, I saw you.”

“You can’t have seen me because I’m not Spider-Man! Also, the news said that guy was—” He thought of the stupid fake name Ned had given him when covering up his appearance to Betty, “—Night Monkey!”

MJ looked at him like she couldn’t believe he thought she was that stupid. “Night Monkey?”

“Hey, the news never lies!”

MJ rolled her eyes and lowered the bag she’d been carrying, opening it up and taking out a silvery device covered in webs. “Well, do _‘Night Monkey’_ and Spider-Man use the same webs?”

Peter took the object when she offered it. “Maybe? He could be a spider monkey!” That sounded weak even to him. He looked away, growing increasingly upset and frustrated. His eyes were tired and he just wanted to curl up and forget all of this. 

But, he had to ask . . . “Were you only watching me because of Spider-Man?”

MJ looked down at the device in her hands, avoiding his eyes. “Why else would I be watching you?”

Peter shook his head, refusing to allow the tears prickling in his eyes come out. “I just—”

His hand moved without thinking, and the device suddenly activated, throwing up image of huge gray clouds in the shape of a person moving through the air, bright-blue lightning pulsing in and around it. Peter instinctively dropped it and rushed to grab MJ, to make sure she was okay—

In the next second the image was gone, and the object — _projector_ — was making the sound of misfiring electrons, flickering blue lights every few seconds.

“What the . . .” Peter picked the projector up, turning it over in his hands.

“What is that?” MJ asked, still startled by the image of an Elemental from moments ago. “Some kind of projector?”

Peter nodded, still looking at it. “Yeah, but it’s really advanced . . .”

MJ seemed to come to the same conclusion as him. “That thing looked real. _Very_ real.”

Peter spoke slowly, almost not believing his own words. “So does that mean that the Elementals are fake? But there was actual fire and destruction, someone would have to make all that happen . . . who would—”

A finger slipped, turning the projector on again. This time, the image held long enough to show someone fighting the Elemental.

“ _Mysterio._ ”

* * *

From there, it was a race to get to Berlin and talk to Fury in person. He hopped on top of a train, having changed into his stealth suit and left the hotel as soon as he’d filled Ned and MJ in on what was happening. 

When he got off the train and went outside, it only took a moment for a black car to pull up beside him and the window to roll down. “Get in,” Fury said.

Peter sighed in relief and did as he said. Once he was in the car, Fury looked at him and said, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Which seemed a bit hypocritical considering he was the one who trusted Beck in the first place, but fine, Peter gave him the glasses, he’d put up with it for now.

They drove in silence, neither trusting that someone wasn’t listening in on them, until finally they made their way to an official-looking building covered in planes of glass. They went inside, up several flights of stairs, more than enough time for Peter to wonder who decided on an all-white and glass design, before making it to a room where Maria Hill was already waiting inside.

Fury stood next to his agent, both of them facing Peter with stony eyes. “Something you want to tell us, Spider-Man?”

Peter sighed in frustration at his own dumb mistakes. “Look, I know I messed up, but you have to understand, Quentin Beck is _not_ who he says he is! Mysterio, the Elementals, it’s all some kind of illusion tech, and probably some kind of drones to cause _actual_ damage and make it all seem real.” He passed the webbed-up projector over. “This is one of his projectors. I hit it on accident in Prague and found it later.”

“Well if this is true, then we need to—”

Peter stopped, his shoulders tensing as his Spider Senses started acting up, a nagging feeling in his head and spine whispering, _This isn’t right._

“Parker?” Fury repeated. “What’s wrong?”

Peter backed up, looking around and putting the goggles on. “It’s Beck. He’s here.”

As soon as he said it, the room changed, all the white walls and glass and furniture changing until all that was left was an abandoned, grey shell of a building, devoid as life as Hill, then Fury went with it. 

“Oh, God—” Peter jumped up to avoid a drone, but moved to slow and was thrown back into a concrete pillar before dropping several floors down. He sat up, coughing as a familiar voice sounded through the building.

“ _Wow, Peter_ ,” Beck said, unseen but everywhere. “ _I thought we were close._ ” A dozen new drones appeared, pointing green lasers at Peter. “ _Fury always had to die, but not_ **_you_** _.”_

Peter tried to web the drones, but then they disappeared too, leaving him even more alone as the entire building faded into complete blackness, hiding everything.

“ _I tried to help you walk away, but now you’re making me do this._ ” Beck’s voice was petulant, almost _hurt_ , as though _Peter_ were the one who wronged _him_.

Peter shook his head before staring down at his hands and chest, watching as his suit changed, becoming red and blue. “ _You told me, you were just a kid._ ” When Mysterio appeared, Peter tried to hit him, but ended up punching a concrete pillar, crying out in pain over his hand.

“ _You told me you wanted to run after that girl._ ”

“HELP ME!”

Peter’s head shot up. “MJ?!” He ran through a door, stopping short when he saw that he was standing on top of the Eiffel Tower, hundreds of feet above ground with MJ right beside him.

“Peter?” she asked, sounding small and scared in a way MJ never should. “What’s going on?”

Peter tried to look away from her, shaking his head. “I know this isn't real!”

“ _Do you though?_ ” Then Mysterio was standing behind MJ, lifting her up by the neck before dropping her over the side of the tower.

Peter couldn’t help it. “ _MJ!_ ” He ran forward and leapt down, smashing on the floor only a few feet below with MJ nowhere in sight.

“ _I don’t think you know what’s real, Peter_ ,” Beck said, his voice echoing. 

Then Peter running, eyes flicking from place to place as the images around him changed, one moment an abandoned hallway in his school, another the apartment building he and May used to live in. Then he felt something connect with his back, sending him flying through glass, then through his own webs, only they didn’t hold him—

Then he landed painfully on the hood of a rusted old car in the middle of a construction site outside, listening as Beck said, his voice distorted, “ _You need to **wake up!**_ ”

Peter groaned painfully, rolling onto the ground and trying to stand up, to get his bearings, to do _anything—_

Then the drones were back, and the world shifted again, leaving him in the same dark and isolated place as before. 

He tried to run, to fight back, but then broken mirror shards surrounded him, showing a hundred versions of himself before they all leapt from the glass, surrounding and piling on top of him.

Peter hit, kicked, even tried to bite some of them, all the time shaking his head and thinking, _Stop, please stop, I don’t want to die like this, please . . ._

“ _You are just a scared little kid in a sweatsuit!_ ”

Then the other Spider-Men was gone, leaving Peter standing alone, now dressed in his old homemade suit, the one from before Mister Stark found him. When he looked around, there were huge, fallen statues of people lying around him — Captain America, Vision, Black Widow. And above all of them, Mysterio towered.

“ _I created Mysterio to give the world someone to believe in!_ **_I_ ** _control the truth! Mysterio_ **_is_ ** _the truth!_ ”

Peter leapt up just before Mysterio could appear behind him and start firing, green lasers that Peter knew in the back of his head probably new weren’t real, but they seemed so real—

His webs went right through Beck, almost pulling a crane down on himself. He ran, not knowing which way to go, what was real and what wasn’t, what—

He fell to the ground after a web went right through something he thought was there. He wanted to stay there, to lie on the ground and never get up, but there was something in front of him. 

_Peter Benjamin Parker, 2001-2018_

“ _You couldn’t even save yourself._ ” Mysterio’s voice was almost soft. “ _Did you even really come back?_ ”

He wanted to scream and run and hide, to demand how Beck knew the thoughts he’d never given voice to—

Then a hand burst from the grave — his own, a skeletal arm showing through the rips and tears of his suit, hauling Peter’s dead body from the dirt, its movements sudden and jerky like a bug’s, before chasing after Peter.

Peter couldn’t help it — he screamed, unable to do anything but scramble backwards and try to get to his feet as his own corpse tried to drag him back into death.

“ _Deep down_ ,” Mysterio said, the sound of hundreds of marching feet following Peter as he ran, “ _you know I’m right._ ”

 _No, no, no, I’m alive, I swear I am, I don’t want to be dead,_ **_I don’t want to be dead anymore—_ **

Then it all stopped, and the light poured back in as a shot rang out.

Beck was standing before him, eyes wide as he looked down and fell to his knees, blood pouring from his back as Nick Fury walked up behind him with a gun still in hand. 

Peter moved back on his hands and feet for a moment, still breathing hard and looking around in shock as several black cars rolled up, his eyes still wet as his heart pounded. “Fury?”

Fury walked up to him, holding out a hand to help him up. “We’re trying to find anyone who could expose Beck,” he explained. “Who’d you tell?”

“Uh—” He was confused, barely able to think straight after what had just happened, but Fury pushed further.

“I know you told someone.” Fury took a step forward, forcing Peter back. Who did you tell? Who else _did you tell?_ ”

Peter shook his head, thinking, saying, “Just Ned and MJ from my class!” His voice sounded weak even to himself. “And Ned might’ve told his girlfriend Betty, but that’s it!”

Fury chuckled low to himself, seeming pleased.

“What?” Peter looked around, stepping back further. “What’s happening?”

“You . . . are so dumb. I mean, you're smart as a whip! Just kind of a . . .” His voice changed, and Quentin Beck stood in front of him again. “Sucker.”

Then the illusions surrounded him again, making Peter flinch and walk backwards from the falling metal and weapons and bombs and spiders and—

“But for what it's worth, Peter . . . I really am sorry.”

The illusions dropped for the last time as the train hit, sending him spiraling into darkness once more.

* * *

Stephen’s head shot up at the sound of his phone ringing, dislodging Tony’s hands, both metal and real, from where he’d been massaging his husband’s shoulders. He groaned. “Hand me that.”

Tony sighed, clearly annoyed at the interruption, but grabbed the phone from where it had been dropped earlier after a call from Riri. He smiled when he saw who was calling. “It’s Peter.”

“Give it to me.” Stephen took the phone and answered. “Hey, Peter. How’s you— what? Peter, what’s happening? Where are you?”

Tony watched as Stephen’s face changed, becoming deadly serious. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and comforting. “We’ll be right there.”

Tony stared as Stephen stood up, summoning his sorcerer robes. “What? What’s wrong with Peter?”

Stephen took out his sling ring. “Vacation’s over.”

* * *

Stephen stepped through a portal into a field of tulips (the Netherlands, honestly), seeing Peter nearby. “Kid? Are you okay?” 

Peter was staggering forward, a smear of blood on his face that was visible even from far away. “Doctor Strange? Is that you?”

Stephen frowned. “Yes, of course it’s me!” He took another step forward.

Peter threw his hands out, moving back for a moment. “Stop!”

Stephen did so, if only because he was too confused and concerned to do anything else. 

“Tell me something only you would know!”

He stared at Peter for a moment longer before saying, “Remember the first time we met? You almost drowned in a lake, and I told you about my sister? Donna?” It was a painful memory, but Peter looked so lost and paranoid and _small_ that Stephen didn’t know what else to do. “I didn’t even mention that to Tony.”

Peter still had his hands up, but he looked a little less sure now. “It’s really you?”

“I just appeared in the middle of the Netherlands out of a portal after you called me to come and get you, I don’t know what else you want—”

Then Peter was running forward, wrapping his arms around Stephen’s shoulders and breathing in relief. “It’s you. It’s so good to see you.”

Stephen didn’t say anything. Rather, he gently set his hands on Peter’s back, returning the hug and wondering what on Earth had happened to the child.

* * *

“Hold still,” Stephen said quietly, channeling magic into his hands so that they were steady as he stitched up Peter’s back. It was tiring, and would probably hamper his ability to do magic as well as he normally did for a while, but Peter didn’t trust anyone else around him. It was either Stephen or Tony.

Speaking of Tony . . . the man was currently sitting in a chair in the Sanctum, facing away from both of them. Stephen could tell he was lost in his head, probably raking himself over the coals for having inadvertently caused another egocentric asshole to go supervillain. Stephen knew he’d be saying ‘ _It wasn’t your fault_ ’ for months when this was over. 

But for now, his focus was Peter.

Peter winced suddenly, clearly in pain and not taking it as well as he normally could. “I said hold still—”

“It _hurts_ , Doctor Strange!” Peter snapped, angered.

Stephen stiffened, but tried to coax him back a bit. “I know. Just relax—”

“ _How can I relax?!_ ” Peter shot up from the chair and whirled around to face them, red-rimmed eyes suddenly full of tears. “How can I relax when I've messed up so bad?! I handed the glasses that Mister Stark gave to me! You . . .” His voice broke. “You trusted me, and I played right into his hands! People are going to get hurt, they’re going to _die_ , my friends and probably half of Europe, because of _me!_ ”

“ _No_ ,” Tony said suddenly, standing up. “None of that is going to happen, okay? We’re here now, just like we should have been, and we’re not gonna let him hurt you or anyone else. And _this_ . . . this is not your fault, Peter. This is Beck’s fault for manipulating you.” After a moment, he added, “And for never going to those anger management classes. And min—”

“Tony,” Stephen interrupted, “I swear if you try to say it’s your fault that you fired a lot of clearly unstable people willing to let hundreds die for petty fame and money, I will leave you in the Mirror Dimension for a week.”

Tony sent him a dirty look, but let it go for the time being. 

Peter didn’t seem very comforted. “I’m sorry, I just . . .” He sat down again, burying his face in his hands. “I’m just sorry.”

Stephen thought about it for a moment before moving closer, one hand, shaking once more, falling on Peter’s shoulder. “Things aren’t the same anymore. Since we came back. It’s not just the world that’s changed.”

Peter shook his head, but said, “It’s me.”

“No,” Stephen said with a sad smile. “It’s us.”

For once, Tony was quiet, standing in the background as Peter and Stephen exchanged a look of shared pain.

“I’m just . . .” Peter said. “I’m so _tired._ Sometimes I think I never came back. Or . . . I feel like I didn’t.”

“And you should be grateful, right? You think you should just be so happy to be alive that it should never feel wrong or hard?”

He nodded.

“I know. And I should have been doing better for you, Peter. Checking in more.”

“You’ve been busy,” Peter insisted. 

“Oh, we’ve all been busy. But I knew . . . on some level, I knew. We haven’t been handling it well, and I should have been there for you more.”

Peter stared at him for a moment before looking away. “I just . . . I miss when things were okay. And I didn’t have to just act like they were, or try to fix it.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” He felt Tony take his hand, and squeezed to show that he knew he was there. “But we have all summer to try to fix it. Right now,” he stood up, his eyes a steely-grey, “what do you want to do with Beck?”

Peter thought about it for a moment. Then he looked up. “I’m gonna find him and kick his ass!”

Tony and Stephen shared a smile. “Well then,” Tony said, opening the door and gesturing for them to follow. “You’re gonna need a suit.”

Stephen huffed. “This was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well,” Tony said, opening a door onto a white-and-silver lab filled with tech, design plans, and, at the center of it all, a synthesizer designed for making Spider-Man equipment, “Peter, are you surprised?”

Peter took his place at the machine, looking through the falls with awe. “A little.”

Stephen looked to his husband. “You track Beck and get your nanites ready. I’ll meditate for a while so I’m ready to go.” He held up a hand. “Kind of took it out of me.”

Tony nodded. When Stephen turned to go, he stopped him, holding his arm. “Hey,” he said quietly before kissing his cheek. “Later, okay?”

A beat passed before Stephen nodded in return. “Later.”

“Oh!” Peter said, holding up an arm to show a blue holographic web-shooter over it. “This one!”

Tony smiled before tapping his ‘watch’. “I got just the thing to help us out.” A moment later, a few discreet speakers started playing ‘Back in Black’.

Peter grinned. “Oh, I love Led Zeppelin!”

It was an effort for Tony and Stephen not to wince.

* * *

“Okay,” Stephen said, summoning the Cloak to him. “I spoke to Fury, he should have an idea of what’s going on. I’m still a bit out of it, but I’ll get your class out and keep anyone from getting hurt on the ground Tony, you handle the drones and get the system back, and Peter—”

“I got Beck,” Peter said, flexing his arm muscles and bouncing on his feet. Despite the almost childing movements, there was a new sense of determination in his features. His eyes were almost flint-like, and the suit he wore was black-and-red. “I know him, and I know his illusion tech. I just need to get on the inside of the illusion, find him, take him out and get the glasses back.”

Tony looked at him, suited up to his neck. “If you need help with Beck, you comm one of us _immediately_. Got it?”

Peter nodded. “Got it.”

Stephen looked at each of them once more before opening a portal in the middle of the room. He leaned through. “Oh, that looks pretty real.”

In London, the four ‘Elementals’ had seemingly joined forced, creating a creature made up of earth, water, fire, and wind, the last of which was blowing hard enough that it started messing with the books in the Sanctum. A dark grey cyclone formed above and around the creature, taller than the famous bridge it stood beside.

Peter looked through the portal and saw it. “This is the top?”

Stephen nodded before checking on Peter one last time. “You sure you got this?”

Peter backed up to get a running start. “See you in an hour.” Then he ran and leapt through the portal, falling into the cyclone. 

Stephen looked at his husband. “That’s definitely your kid.”

Tony just smiled.

* * *

Peter grit his teeth as he glided downwards, saying over and over, “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not _real—_ ”

He burst into the illusion, suddenly surrounded by dozens of drones projecting the fake Elemental, creating an image made of hundreds of complex layers. “Ohhhh, that’s kind of cool.”

He leapt from drone to drone, webbing them and the projectors, messing the image up. Over the comms, Tony said, “ _Friday and I are working on the system, but the asshole knew what he was doing. Give me five minutes._ ”

"I’ve _got your class out, Peter,_ ” Stephen said when Tony was done. “ _He’s using the drones to wreak fucking havoc down here, but I’ve got it for now.”_

Peter turned and jumped down from one drone, thinking, _Oh, I hope this works_ , before shocking he drone at the center with an electric pulse. In an instant, the electricity moved, working its way through the tangled net of webs, bringing the illusion down in a grid of bright blue.

Through the gaps in the Elemental, he saw Beck on the London Bridge. “I see you.” He tried swinging over by the drones, but suddenly one of them hit him in the side, knocking him ot the street below.

He groaned, dazed. Above him, the illusion came apart completely, the sky filled with more than a hundred drones.

“Oh, that’s not good.” He got up and started running — just in time, considering that the drones immediately started firing at him.

He swung up onto the bridge, kicking the drones away when he got close enough and redirecting them into each other, but eventually he had to drop back down to the street. “Guys, I’m almost at Beck, but I can’t shake these drones!”

“ _I’ve got you, Peter_ ,” Stephen said. Seconds later, there were portals opening up in the sky, sending the closest drones flying into each other, blowing them up or making them crash. Over the comms, Peter could tell Stephen was getting tired, his breaths coming in short pants. “ _You’ve got an opening, now use it._ ”

Peter moved quickly, working to get to the bridge even as Beck tried to fill him with bullets and _light him on fire_. He was almost there when Beck managed to hit him with enough pulses to knock him into the water, and, _Jesus, this guy doesn’t give up._

And he was out of webs.

_Okay. Um . . ._

He wrenched a plaque off of a chunk of broken stone and grabbed a piece of debris, one large enough to fill his hand. _Really hope this works._ He ran through the bridge, holding the plaque up as a shield when the guns inevitably started firing at him. When he had an opening, he threw the broken bit of machinery up into the air — right into the center of the drones.

They all fired at the same time, blowing each other up and creating a pulse big enough to push Peter into the air, propelling him up to where Beck was.

He grabbed Beck by the front of his mocap suit, lifting him up and punching the stupid fishbowl helmet.

He was ready to fight off the drones, but at the same time as he was moving in, they powered down.

 _“I got the security and defense systems down,_ ” Tony said. He was helping civilians get away from the wreckage with Stephen leaning on his side, exhausted. “ _Careful, kid, he’s still got the illusion tech._ ” 

A drone knocking into him from behind was enough to let Beck drop to the ground. Peter growled. “Give me the glasses, Beck!” 

Beck rolled away and got up to his feet, nonchalantly holding the glasses out. “Oh, you want these?” More than a dozen drones flew in through the broken windows, transforming the bridge into a completely dark and black hallway. “ _Come and get them._ ”

Peter stared at where Beck had been. Then, he closed his eyes. “Come on, Peter.” 

Eyes closed, he ran forward, giving himself over entirely to his Spider-Sense and his instincts as the drones opened fire. He didn’t think, just moved, knocking drones away, hurling them into each other, ripping them apart with his hands, one moment on the floor, the next on the ceiling—

And for the first time in almost six years, he knew he was alive.

When it was done, he opened his eyes.

“Beck!”

Quentin was lying on the floor with a shard of _something_ sticking out from his abdomen. Peter didn’t need Doctor Strange around to tell him it was bad.

Despite himself, Peter found himself limping over to him. And he hated to know that even after everything Beck had done, he didn’t want to kill him. He didn’t want him to die. “Are you . . .” He shook his head. “No. You _lied_ to me. I _trusted you!_ ”

Beck nodded. “That’s the . . . disappointing part.” He groaned, clearly in pain. There was blood at his mouth. “You’re a good person, Peter. You didn’t deserve . . . any of this.” He held the glasses out. “Stark was right. You do deserve them—”

Peter’s hand shot out, grabbing Beck’s — the _real_ Beck’s — arm and twisted it, moving the gun an instant before the shot rang out. 

Peter gripped his wrist until Beck dropped the gun, then ripped the glasses from his face. “You can’t trick me anymore.”

He put the glasses on, looking out on the city. “Karen?”

“ _You’re back online, Peter,_ ” Karen said pleasantly. “ _Shall I execute all cancellation protocols?_ ”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, do it. Execute them all.”

Karen obeyed, and the drones all powered down completely, rising into the sky to be returned to the Stark security systems.

When it was done, Peter turned around, looking at Beck. He was lying on the ground, clutching his stomach in obvious pain. “Beck?” He wondered if he thought it was worth it. Instead he asked, “How could you do all this?”

Beck laughed harshly, though it was low and pathetic. “People need to believe, Peter . . . and nowadays . . .” Something like a smile took over his face. “They’ll believe anything.” 

He breathed one more time, then he was still. But . . . “Karen, is he actually . . . is this real?”

“ _Yes, Peter_.”

For a moment, Peter thought of doing something. Closing his eyes or moving him somewhere. Instead, he turned around and walked away. 

* * *

“Steph, got energy for one more?”

Stephen rolled his head to look at Peter. The teenager was limping next to Tony, with blood on his face and several tears showing through to the webbing his suit. Despite his exhaustion, Stephen smiled. “C’mon, kid.”

They made it through to the lakehouse where Stephen had transported Peter’s class. Down the hall, they could hear Pepper yelling at someone. “Don’t touch anything! _Do NOT touch anything!_ " 

Tony helped Stephen slide into a chair, watching affectionately as he curled his legs up and drifted into a nap. “Yeah, he’s gonna be out for the rest of the day. You should probably get out of that suit before one of your classmates sees— oops.”

MJ was standing in the doorway, hand half-raised in a knock. “The door was open.”

“Oh, well—”

“It’s okay, Mister Stark,” Peter said tiredly. “It’s MJ, she found out last night.”

“Okay, good, I didn’t think I could wing that one.” He looked at MJ again, seeming to remember something. “Oh, you’re that girl! The one Peter was—”

“ _Tony_ ,” Christine Palmer said, appearing in the doorway with a blanket in her arms. “Don’t _embarrass_ the poor kids.”

Peter could swear his face was on fire. 

Christine held up the blanket, awkwardly scooching by MJ. “Just gonna . . .” She put the blanket over Stephen, covering him up to his neck. “There you go. C’mon, Tony, let’s leave the love birds alone.”

_Die. Please let me die._

Christine pulled Tony out of the room before he could protest, closing the door behind them and leaving Peter and MJ alone with an unconscious Stephen. Not the most romantic setting in the world, but sometimes you just gotta make do with what you have.

“MJ, I . . .” His hand found the necklace, hidden in a pocket on the inside of his suit (now readily available due to how the entire thing was half-hanging off him), but he winced when he realized it was broken. “Oh, no.”

MJ frowned, looking down at his hand. “What?”

Peter sighed, feeling his frustration bubble over as he handed the broken necklace and petals over to her. “MJ, I’m so sorry. I just- I had this whole plan, a stupid plan, and I was gonna give you this necklace and—”

Then MJ kissed him.

 _Oh._ Well, that was . . . nice. 

_Good_ , Peter thought, kissing her this time. Short, and new, and a little awkward . . . but good. 

MJ cradled the necklace in her hand, smiling in the small, awkward, adorable way she had. “I don’t normally have a lot of luck just . . . getting close to people. But I like the necklace.” She held it up. “Black Dahlia. Like the murder—”

“—the murder,” Peter said at the same time as her, smiling and kind of light-headed. 

“Yeah. And I think it’s really nice broken. Better.”

Peter smiled. “I really like you.”

MJ chuckled. “I really like you, too.”

“Oh.”

Then they kissed again, and it was short, and tired, and a little broken. But good. Really good.

* * *

“You guys really don’t have to end your trip early,” Peter said, feeling guilty.

Tony shook his head, setting the table while Stephen made breakfast, his metal arm glinting. “Don’t even think of it, Peter. Stephen was getting antsy anyway.”

“I just like keeping myself busy,” Stephen said. “For that matter, in two days we’re attending a charity gala for people who are homeless after the Snap — Peter, your aunt helped set it up, so remind me to thank her — and don’t worry Tony, I already wrote the check, so we just need to show up and guilt everyone into handing over their wallets. And after that, Harley is coming up for a visit, so we’re gonna do a lot of fun stuff together. Peter, you’re coming, don’t even try to weasel your way out of it. And this weekend—”

Tony rolled his eyes, whispering conspiringly to Peter. “He was _born_ to be a socialite housewife.” He smiled at Peter’s chuckle, his eyes softening. “How are you doing, Pete? For real, this time.”

Peter’s smile melted away, but he didn’t seem sad. Just . . . himself. “I’m trying. I’m going to the therapist like you threatened me into doing. Just once, but I thought she was cool. Understanding. And I talked to Doctor Strange. Like, twice now. And there are still times when I’m swinging around, and I’m scared the webs won’t land anywhere and I’ll end up falling. But then I feel the ground underneath me again, and I’m good. And, _and_ —” he tapped his hand on the table, suddenly remembering what he’d wanted to tell him, “I heard ‘Cowboy Casanova’ on the radio the other day, and it immediately made me think of Beck! Seriously, listen to it and tell me it doesn’t fit!” 

“Spooky.” He smirked, remembering something. “Oh, but guess what Stephen told me about the other day.”

Stephen sighed, immediately knowing what he meant. “ _Tony_ , I told you about that because I felt bad accusing you all those years, but that doesn’t mean you can just go around and tell everyone.”

“So what happened is, for _years_ now, ever since we started dating, Stephen has been accusing _me_ tracking his cell phone number when I knew for a _fact_ that he left me his number. Well, guess who just told me that when the Time Stone was still up and kicking, he sent his card back in time.”

Stephen glared at him, hard enough to light him on fire. “Your hair is going grey,” he said pettily.

Tony smiled. “You like it.” He took a kitchen cloth from the table. “Come here.”

“Tony . . .” Stephen backed up. “I swear to Agamotto, if you try to smack my ass right now . . .”

“And I’m out,” Peter said, taking his cup of rootbeer and walking out to the family room, where Pepper, Christine, MJ, Morgan, and baby Vincent were all staring at a TV.

“Hey,” Peter said casually, sitting next to MJ and contemplating putting an arm around her before deciding that was too much. “What are we watching?”

Everyone stared at him. MJ took the remote, rewinding the news. “You should . . . uh . . . Just watch.” She pressed play.

_“We come to you now with revelations about last week's attack in London. An anonymous source provided this video, it shows Quentin Beck, aka, Mysterio, moments before his death. A warning, you may find this video disturbing.”_

Then Beck’s face appeared on screen, sweaty and slick with blood as he spoke quickly into a camera. “ _I managed to send the Elemental back into the dimensional rift, but I don't think I'm gonna make it off this bridge alive. Spider-Man attacked me for some reason. He has an army of weaponized drones,_ **_Stark_ ** _technology._ ”

 _“Are you sure you want to commence the drone attack?”_ An A.I., not Karen but someone else, asked. _“There will be significant casualties.”_

On-screen, Spider-Man said, “ _Do it. Execute them all._ ” 

Then there was the sound of drones firing.

Peter sat in shock as the others stared at him and J. Jonah Jameson trashed his name on television for everyone to hear. Then— 

“ _WHAT THE FUCK?!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will also include future rewrites of relevant movies (like Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, if it ever comes out ... which seems like a longshot at this point) and some aside/oneshot/interlude style chapters


End file.
